My kids are now eight and six years old, which means they are still plenty self absorbed to believe that they are king and queen of the castle, but old enough at least I think, to start having some construct of a social conscience and a more accurate sense of the world.

I love boys….always have. There were the two Alans and a Brad, a Noah a Scott a Chris and a slew of Mikes…I wound up even marrying one. There were also the scandalous Todd and Lance. And, of course, there was the beautiful Dutch guy, Iljan, my summer camp love. It was an exquisite romance – six weeks of intense, young passion followed by a year of heartache when he went home to the Netherlands.

Ive been traveling a ton for work. And while, yes, I do get pangs of guilt for leaving my kiddies, there has been an unexpected upside – a lot of ME time. Some may call it selfish, but Ill be honest, ME time is fabulous.

People always ask me, Woman, how do you do it? As I was getting my hair blown out Wednesday afternoon, it occurred to me how I do it, or at least how I pretend to do it all. One word – Outsourcing. American companies do it; moms can too.

My six-year-old son Jonah wants to know why Im not the crossing guard at his school. And he asks me almost every day why Im not spooning out the hot food in the cafeteria or volunteering in the playground at recess. This, he explains, are the activities the other mommies are doing at his school.